


The Colour of Black

by insominia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Meetings, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Dean Winchester, M/M, Oblivious Dean Winchester, Pseudoscience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 16:55:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19322287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insominia/pseuds/insominia
Summary: Dean Winchester wakes up in hospital bruised, broken and mostly blind with little memory of how he ended up there. To the people he saved he's a hero, to none more so than the dorky guy with the amazing voice who visits every day and doesn't seem to want to leave.





	The Colour of Black

**Author's Note:**

> So this was supposed to be a really, really short piece that I started in March...then this happened and honestly I've struggled loads in that time, both with this fic and generally living life so it's a huge deal to me to finally post something and I hope you like it. Kudos and comments give me life, which is much needed right now <3

_**Introduction to Animumbrology 101** _

_The first question is the same every year, and has probably been the same since the dawn of man; “why eye colour?” For as long as we have had the written word we have had this question in evidence, yet we are still no closer to an answer today than when it was first committed to paper centuries ago [1]. Of course, there are theories. The creation myths and stories of many cultures across the world share the common theme of one not becoming ‘whole’ until the soulmate has been found and the ability to see the full spectrum of colours is the physical manifestation of an otherwise purely emotional bond. (It is from here that we derive the rather romantic expression ‘soul colour’). Evolutionists argue that we cannot see the colour of our soul mate’s eyes until we meet them as an evolved mechanism so that we can easily identify the other half of our soul [2]. They are supported in this theory by the proven fact that it is looking into your soulmate’s eyes that trigger the optical change rather than any other kind of touch, but the truth is we do not, and may never know why we cannot see our soul colour until we meet them._

 

* * *

 

There was darkness, but there was no pain. On the very edge of his awareness, Dean Winchester knew that there should be some pain, that darkness like this walked hand in hand with agony. But there was nothing and for that he was grateful.

‘- _Caucasian male, early thirties, sustained significant -’_

_‘-smoke inhalation, minor fractures-’_

_‘-please, he’s my - please, he saved my life-’_

_‘-Mister Winchester? Mister Winchester? Dean? Can you hear me, Dean?’_

_‘That’s my brother-’_

_‘-stable for now – won’t know the extent for some time but -’_

_‘-he saved my life...’_

_‘-yeah, that’s my brother for you_ -’

Voices came and went though he had little notion as to who was speaking or what they were saying. There was nothing to focus on here...wherever here was. Sometimes Dean felt as though he were floating on air, others had his skin screaming as though he were rolling around in a sea of glass shards. There were lights, hot and blinding and there was darkness, cold and empty, and always there were the voices. 

“ _Sam_?” Dean jerked in the bed he was lying, at least he assumed it was a bed. He was lying down, it was flat, somewhat soft and there was a blanket covering his lower half. He opened his eyes, but there was only darkness. He closed his eyes, but there was only darkness. Regardless, it seemed there was darkness. Panic gripped him, as did something else; a firm pressure pressing down on his chest and before he could formulate a response he heard himself croak, “Sammy?” hoping to cling to his brother as they had always done at times like this.

“Your brother is here, you’re ok, I’m just going to get a nurse,” a familiar voice, but not one he recognised said. Warm and reassuring, much like the hand pressed against his chest, holding him firmly, stopping him from flailing. “Please, be calm,” the voice said and despite himself Dean allowed a long breath to leave him, calming against the voice and it’s comforting presence against his chest. The hand remained, even though the voice had said it would leave, “it’s all ok.”

The pressure left his chest and Dean heard shuffling, a door opening and the sharp call of, “Sam! Sam, he’s awake!”

In the distance there was clattering and smothered in darkness Dean couldn’t help but smirk. He would recognise his brother’s stumble anywhere.

“Dean!” Sam breathed, grabbing his hand to assure him of his presence, “Dean, you’re awake!”

“Sam,” Dean croaked and was almost disturbed to hear his brother let out something close to a sob. “Sam, what happened?”

His brother’s grip was tight around his hand and as consciousness started to agree with him he became aware of other sensations. His chest was burning, as though he had spent too much time holding his breath, everything ached, really ached, there was pain, and around his head it was warm. Too warm. He took his hand from his brother and touched his face, only a little surprised when he came into contact with thick wads of gauze and bandages. He let out a sigh, it was something of a relief that there was a reason for the darkness.

“There was a fire, do you remember?” Sam asked, but Dean shook his head, hardly able to move it under the pressure of the wraps around him. Even as he did so he felt something, something flash deep in his mind, something important. Maybe he did remember. He remembered...something.

“So you were coming to meet me-”

“-at the Roadhouse,” Dean cut in and he felt the air displace around him, Sam might have been nodding, it wasn’t like he could see to confirm it.

“Right, yeah, but there was a fire at an apartment block, so you...” he breathed heavily and despite the darkness, Dean could see his brother’s worn and worried expression, “you ran right in there, started grabbing people-”

 _Oh yeah_.

There was a kid... some woman with a cat...the rest was a blur...then came the shout followed swiftly by the darkness.

“You saved them, Dean,” Sam whispered, somewhere between awe and heartbreak, “but, you were helping a guy out and then parts of the block started coming down. You threw him out but you didn’t get clear in time. Luckily, you were close to the exit so they found you pretty easily, but...”

“Am I blind, Sammy?” Dean asked, surprised at how even his voice sounded. In his head, he was terrified.

“No,” Sam breathed, “no, they don’t think so but...but they won’t know the extent of the damage... _if_ there is any damage until the bandages come off.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt...” the warm voice was back, “I brought a nurse...”

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Dean,” the nurse said, her voice low and almost lyrical, “I’m Nurse Masters and I’m the lucky lady who gets to look after you, bout time we got some decent eye candy around here, though your brother isn’t too bad, I suppose,” she added thoughtfully and Dean snorted. He liked her. “Now I’m just going to test your responsiveness and then the three of you can get back to being the sexiest room in the place.”

‘Three of you?’

“I assure you, you don’t bring down the tone,” the warm voice charmed and Dean didn’t know why but something tight pulled at his gut when he heard it. More than a little bit ridiculous given that he didn’t actually know either of these people. So he ignored the nurse’s response and focused entirely on answering her questions which mostly involved, ‘does it hurt when I do this?’ Mostly, it did. It seemed that hardly any of Dean had escaped injury of some kind. There were broken bones, bruises and burns. The burns really hurt, even though the nurse didn't really touch them. She didn’t touch the mass of bandages circling Dean’s face either, apparently, that was the doctor’s domain and he needed to keep them on undisturbed for a while yet. And then, with an appropriately dramatic sigh to be leaving the most handsome man on the ward, she was gone and the room was left in a strange silence.

Lying in the bed during the nurse’s checks had left Dean feeling strangely exposed. He knew Sam was beside him, but he couldn’t see him. Nor could he see the person who had apparently ingratiated himself with his brother, and he appreciated how much he relied on non-verbal communication now that he couldn’t see anything or read the people around him. “I’m gonna get a coffee, you want anything, Dean?” Sam asked, but Dean just shrugged, he hadn’t even gotten around to analysing what his body needed or wanted just yet. “How about you?” and Dean knew the question was directed at the other man, which was just frustrating. Even more frustrating was that the man had clearly responded with a nod or a shake of the head, something Dean could not see. “Back in a bit,” Sam muttered and then there were just the two of them, whoever the two of them were.

“Who are you?” Dean bit out, unable or unwilling to hide the annoyance in his tone.

He heard the man shuffle awkwardly towards the bed. “Oh,” he sighed, “you...don’t know?”

“Should I?” he was being petulant, he knew it, but he could be forgiven given that he was lying, blind, in a hospital bed with only a stranger for company.

“No, it’s just-” the man trailed off, “I suppose...never mind.” He sounded hurt and for the life of him Dean didn’t know why that should cause his gut to tighten again and he had to fight the instinctive movement to reach for him. “My name is Castiel,” the voice said, as smooth as whisky on the rocks, gravel wrapped in silk, “I was the last person you pulled from the building. You saved my life.” A warm hand wrapped around Dean’s but he didn’t flinch at the touch. It was strangely comforting, “thank you, Dean.”

“No problem,” Dean rasped, trying and failing to pinpoint exactly why his emotions should be in knots and why he felt like he’d forgotten something important. 

 

* * *

 

 

_The notion that we cannot see our soul mate’s eye colour until we meet them is surprisingly, not without its controversy, despite its prevalence in our day to day lives [3]. Everyone knows the fact of this universal truth, but the specifics have yet to be discovered. While the general rule of thumb is that one cannot see the colour of our soul until we find it in the other part of ourselves, how that manifests varies between people with no discernable correlation [4]. For some, they cannot see the specific shade or hue of their soul colour, for others they cannot see any variation on the base colour. Indeed, there have been several documented instances where soul mates have missed each other entirely (initially) because the chroma was so specific that their soul mates eyes were the only thing they could not see in colour [5]. Contrary to popular belief, the preciseness of spectrum afforded by meeting a soul mate does not indicate the ‘depth’ or ‘strength’ of a bond._

 

* * *

 

That first night in the hospital was the worst. The doctor had come and looked him over, assuring Dean that there was no reason why his eyesight would not recover but they would take it slow. He would be here for a few weeks yet, but they would only need to keep the bulk of bandages on his head for a few more days. Most of his other injuries were superficial and the IV of antibiotics should keep infection at bay where the deeper wounds threatened him. Nurse Masters would check in when need be and there was a button close to his hand so he could call if he needed anything. Beyond that, he was to lie in bed and get better.

Dean couldn’t think of anything worse, his hands already itching for something to do.

The bandages around his head were too heavy to be comfortable. The room was too hot and his skin prickled underneath the gauze. Now that he was aware enough to appreciate it, Dean could feel every ache and bruise, every cut that had been stitched up and he huffed in frustration that he hadn’t even seen himself to know the extent of his injuries. His throat was dry, but he didn’t want to call for water because dammit he wasn’t so injured he needed help reaching the jug beside him, assuming there was one. He wasn’t about to fumble recklessly to find out. He didn’t know what the time was and for some reason that was even more frustrating than anything else. Sam and that guy, Castiel, they’d been long gone so visiting hours were done. It was quiet out so it was late, or maybe early and the only sounds were the occasional footsteps and hushed tones of the night porters. And he had how many weeks of this?

He slept fitfully if he slept at all and when Dean heard a distant call of, “breakfast’s up,” he was already in the bad mood to end bad moods. It hardly improved when someone left him a bowl of oatmeal and a tepid cup of coffee on his lap table. It wasn’t so hard to eat without sight, but it was disconcerting, to say the least.

He was still eating breakfast when there was a tentative knock at the door and instinctively he turned towards the sound, scowling when he realised it was a pointless thing to do. “What?” he growled, surprised when he heard Castiel’s voice respond.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean frowned, not that it mattered, Castiel couldn’t see it. “Cas?”

“Sam said he had to go back to work, I thought you might appreciate some company?”

He hadn’t moved, Dean could tell, so he must have been waiting in the doorway for Dean’s response. Dean wanted to tell him to get lost, a reaction entirely bourne from frustration and confusion as to why he would be here at all. He had assumed the guy would disappear after he’d done the whole, ‘thanks for saving my life’ bit. “Uh…sure?” Dean muttered, turning his attention if not his gaze back to the oatmeal, wrinkling his nose at the thought of it.

From the sounds of it, Cas had brought a bag with him. Dean recognised the slide of something heavy off a shoulder and a light thud as it touched the ground. “I uh...brought you something,” he said and Dean grinned, touched somehow by the guy’s obvious nervousness. He heard Cas unzip the bag and the general sounds of shuffling as he looked for whatever it was he needed. The heavy click of Tupperware announced he’d found it and then there was a familiar smell on the air and Cas was putting something on the lap table. “I figured hospital food would be wanting,” Dean could _hear_ his nose turn up at the oatmeal and lukewarm coffee and it made him smirk, “so I brought you something a little more substantial. May I?” Dean wasn’t entirely sure what he was asking permission for, but he nodded, allowing Cas to take his hands and guide them to the paper plate before him.

He felt something round and soft, a bread roll? He wanted to ask what it was but he was enjoying the surprise. He lifted it to his mouth and took a bite, letting out an almost indecent groan.

Bacon.

Perfection.

“Mmf, Cas, this is good,” Dean said through a mouthful of the bacon roll. “This is really good,” he added because it really was.

“Thank you,” Cas replied, quietly and Dean fancied he could hear a flush of embarrassment in his voice, “my brother makes the bread himself so I can't take all the credit.”

“It’s good,” Dean beamed and beside him, Cas was comfortably quiet while he devoured it. He even felt his way across the plate, picking up the crumbs, “Seriously, that was great. Thank you.” Cas rested a finger on Dean’s hand, just a small touch to let him know he was there.

“You’re welcome. Your brother said you had a penchant for bacon.”

Dean smirked, “dude. Bacon is the best. Homemade bread just made it better.”

“I brought you some pie too, do you think it’ll interfere with your recovery to eat pie for breakfast?”

“I think it might interfere with my recovery if I don’t get pie for breakfast,” Dean grinned and it occurred to him as he allowed another indecent moan to escape him, digging into the traditional apple pie Cas produced, that he had been in a bad mood not thirty minutes ago.

 

* * *

 

 

Castiel stayed for the whole day and if Dean were asked he would have been surprised to remember he hadn’t known the guy for more than a day and he wouldn’t know him by sight. They talked as easily as if they were old friends, even though their topics were clearly the kind people threw out when they wanted to get to know someone. Dean talked about his job working for his Uncle Bobby, who wasn’t really his Uncle but he’d get a clip around the ear if he’d tried to call him ‘dad’. Turns out Castiel had already met him the day before, a little while before Dean had regained consciousness. Apparently, a white-faced Sam had introduced Bobby to the last guy Dean had pulled from a burning building and Castiel had stuttered something along the lines of, ‘he’s a hero’ to which Bobby had grunted, ‘he’s an idjit.’ Dean laughed, he wouldn't expect anything less from Bobby.

He learned that Castiel came from a ridiculously large family, with more brothers, sisters and cousins than anyone had any business having, though he only kept in touch with a handful of them. His dad had been AWOL for longer than he could remember and he didn’t mention a mother, so Dean didn’t ask. Castiel revealed that Sam had already mentioned Dean’s mother and offered it as the probable explanation as to why Dean hadn’t been able to pass the building while there were people still inside. Dean had shrugged at that, it was hard to offer an explanation for something he couldn’t really remember doing.

Nurses came in and did their routine checks but with Cas beside him it felt like a minor interruption rather than an intrusion. By the time Sam showed up, Dean and Cas were both sharing a set of headphones, introducing each other to some vastly different musical tastes.

“You guys look cosy,” Sam joked, seeing as Castiel leaning as close to Dean as the bed would allow so they could listen together.

“You should hear this guy’s definition of ‘classic’, Sam.”

“It’s Archangelo Corelli, Dean. It is by definition a classic!”

“You want a classic, this is a classic,” Dean was saying, completely ignoring his brother in favour of using the voice control on his phone to find Eye of the Tiger.

“I prefer Corelli,” Cas said, and Dean laughed, the hair on the back of his neck standing to attention at Cas’ breath so close to his cheek.

“Should I go-” Sam started and Dean almost cursed aloud as Castiel leapt from the chair, startling him and yanking the headphones with as he went.

“No, I’m so sorry, Sam, I just thought-” Castiel stuttered and Dean could hear him knock several things off the side table in his haste to give Sam and Dean their space.

"Dude, it’s fine,” Sam was saying kindly, “thanks for keeping him company. You don’t have to go,” he added and Dean breathed a sigh of relief, he hadn’t wanted Cas to go either but it seemed Castiel wasn’t so easily persuaded. Dean could hear the shuffling and rustling of layers being added before Cas said,

“I hope you feel better soon, Dean.”

Panic rose up in Dean’s chest, sudden and inexplicable panic and so he didn’t start stuttering he managed to bark out, “hey...you can come back y’know. If you wanna visit, any time. I mean-” he gestured around the room, “I’m not going anywhere,” he grinned, and on some level, he knew that Cas was grinning back.

“I have work to get back to, but, I-” Cas hesitated and Dean could feel him and Sam exchanging looks, “I’m sure I’ll be back, if that’s ok with you, Sam?”

Sam snorted or choked, Dean wasn’t sure which but he knew his brother well enough to know that his hands would have been thrown up as he said, “sure, man, I mean, please do, he’s only gonna go stir crazy on his own.”

Dean had expected Castiel to say his goodbyes and disappear. What he did not expect was the warm hand that wrapped around his, a firm but insistent press, “good night Dean,” Cas said, in a voice that was surely too low for public consumption.

“Night, Cas, thanks again for...y’know...” Dean trailed off and Cas gave his hand another squeeze, before he left, whatever coat he wore flapped against him and to Dean it sounded like feathers on the wind, he couldn’t help but smile. A smile that immediately faltered when he remembered Sam was right beside him.

“So,” Sam said and Dean could hear the little shit’s shit-eating grin, “Cas is nice.”

 

* * *

 

 

_Another common misconception is that the soul mate bond is entirely romantic or sexual in nature. However, given that the overwhelming majority enter into a romantic partnership with their soul mate (the most recent studies [6] have less than 0.01% of the soulbonded population as in a platonic or non-sexual/non-romantic relationship) it is understandable why that is the case. There is sound reasoning for this that has been put forward over the years, though much of it comes from sociologists and psychologists rather than the discipline of animumbrology. The overwhelming evidence suggests that one can only respond positively to such an immediate and intense bond and it is the human condition to search for someone to share a life with. It stands to both reason and emotion that humans as a species would settle with their soulmate. (As an aside there have been only twenty-eight documented instances, since 1782 [7] where a soulbond resulted in dislike or hatred for a soulmate [8])._

 

* * *

 

The second night was slightly more bearable than the first. Dean had a better grasp of where he was, literally given that he knew where the water was in relation to his bed and he had a new button for the administration of pain relief. He didn’t need to tap into it all that much, but it certainly helped him get to sleep. Not that there was much chance of him staying asleep seeing as a nurse needed to do observations on him every couple of hours. Even though it wasn’t all that intrusive, the sounds of them stepping into the room, checking charts, notes and drips were enough to disrupt what bursts of sleep Dean managed to snatch. The pain relief at least managed to distract him from the minor annoyances; the scratch of stubble below the scratch of gauze, the distinct feeling that he desperately needed a shower, the gross fuzziness in his mouth seeing as he hadn’t brushed his teeth though he’d at least asked Sam to bring him back some gum. It was the least he could do when Cas came by, especially if he was going to get that close to the bed again.

If Cas came by.

 _If_.

For all his show of confidence and his general swagger, Dean Winchester wasn’t exactly the most secure of people. He could blame the loss of his mother and John Winchester’s _stellar_ parenting for that lot of emotional baggage, which is why he now took to second-guessing his seemingly immediate friendship with this Castiel guy. If it could even be called friendship. The guy was probably just grateful that Dean had saved his life and felt like he couldn’t excuse himself til Sam showed up. Besides, he said he had work to be doing, but who would reasonably be expected to work after a fire that brought down an apartment complex?

He likely wouldn’t see the guy again. Maybe when they took the bandages off he’d find a generic ‘Get Well Soon’ card grabbed from the well-meaning gift shop in the atrium. After he’d been released maybe Sam would show up with a fruit basket that had been delivered to his office (he’d have gotten Sam’s work address during a passing conversation), another polite ‘Thank you and glad to hear you’re on the mend’ note and Dean would pass the fruit back to Sam, not wanting it and that would be the extent of his and Cas’ interaction. Why wouldn’t it be? And why did it bother him that this perfectly reasonable chain of events was gnawing at his gut? And why, when the knock on the door came the following morning did Dean find himself grinning like an absolute idiot, saying, “Heya, Cas,” having recognised the guy from footfall alone.

 

* * *

 

 

There were no bacon rolls for breakfast, instead, Cas had brought pancakes that he’d made himself. Apparently, he’d thought that maple syrup might be annoying if it somehow got on Dean’s bandages, “because your eating habits are so abysmal,” Cas had said, and they had both laughed, easily together. Dean couldn’t be offended, after all, he was dead right. So instead Cas had poured the syrup into the recipe and rolled them up so Dean could eat them with his hands. The scent of lemon had confused him until Cas revealed that he’d brought some hand wipes so Dean wouldn’t have to deal with sticky fingers afterwards. Dean knew he was wearing the goofiest smile at such a small act of thoughtfulness, but he didn’t care and when Cas dabbed a wipe at the edge of his mouth, cleaning up the crumbs that clung there, Dean thought his heart might explode.

“So I brought you some things,” Cas said after he’d tidied all evidence of the contraband breakfast away. He pressed something small and smooth into Dean’s hand, an iPod? It had headphones attached at least. “I wasn’t sure if you read or not so I put a couple of my favourite audiobooks on it and there’s plenty of classics. I thought it might help if you got bored overnight or something.” Cas trailed off and Dean could hear the embarrassment rise in his voice.

He reached out and squeezed Castiel’s hand which never seemed to be far away from his own. “Cas,” he breathed, “that’s real nice of you.”

Cas withdrew his hand and even though Dean didn’t know what he looked like, he knew the guy was blushing.

  
“Wait, your idea of classics or mine?” he added, suddenly, but Cas only laughed and told him he’d have to wait to find out.

A nurse came by, not Nurse Masters, this one introduced herself as Anna and told Dean that the doctor would be doing her rounds shortly and they would definitely be checking over his eyes. She said it so casually, there really was no reason for Dean’s stomach to start churning, but rational thought didn’t help. And it certainly didn’t help when Cas announced that he had work to be getting on with. Dean swallowed down the lump in his throat, he was a big boy, he didn’t need Cas to hold his hand through this. He wanted it, but he didn’t need it.

“Sure, Cas, you gotta do your thing, right?”

“If you don’t mind?” Castiel asked, uncertainly. But Dean waved him off,

“It’s cool, don’t worry about me.”

 _Worry about me_.

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas said, quietly, and then there was silence.

For the longest time Dean just sat, a little bit put out that Cas hadn’t said goodbye. More than a little put out that he’d left at all, but the guy had work to do and it wasn’t fair that Dean had basically become a limpet, clinging to the guy because he had no one else. He tapped his fingers against the lap-table, beating out a drum beat that didn’t belong to any particular song, he was passing the time and he knew it. He could always break out the iPod Cas had brought him but he didn’t fancy negotiating the headphones and bandages, at least until the doctor had been. When he heard the distinct clatter of fingers on a keyboard right beside him he practically jumped from the bed.

“Dean? Are you alright?”

“Jesus, Cas, I thought you left!”

He could hear him frowning, he could feel the narrowed gaze upon him, he wondered what Cas looked like, not for the first time. Or even the hundredth time. 

“I just needed to get some work done?”

“Here?”

“If that’s alright?”

Dean let out a shaky sigh of relief...and something else. “Sure man, sure, carry on.” He settled back against his pillow, listening to the rhythmic tapping of Castiel’s fingers moving across a laptop and even though it wasn’t particularly entertaining, there was something soothing about it all.

 

* * *

 

 

 _Ultimately, the ability to see your soul’s colour does little in terms of advancing or inspiring the soulmate bond itself. It is the physical definition of the bond, but that is where it’s usefulness or relevance even, ends. While it has become something of a ‘trope’ that the ability to discern the complete spectrum fuels romantic inclination, it is more a societal expectation that seeing the colour prompts a ‘love at first sight’ reaction and in actuality is rarely observed outside of popular media [9]. Though that is not to say it does not happen at all, many soul bonded couples will often claim to have fallen in love at first sight retroactively, after their bond has developed_.

 

* * *

 

 

“So, what do you do? What're you working on?” Dean asked after Cas’ fingers had been still for some time. He couldn’t tell whether Castiel’s reaction of clearly packing his laptop away was because Dean had distracted him or because it had just reminded him of how long it had been since he’d actually written anything. For a moment Dean felt guilty that he might have distracted him, but Cas was an adult, he could surely tell Dean to leave him to work if he needed to.

Besides, he was almost enthusiastic in his reply, “I’m a teacher at the college up the road. In hindsight, if my apartment was going to burn down it’s probably a good thing it decided to do so during the summer break...” he said as an attempt at a joke.

Dean winced, “how’s that going?”

There was a rustle, it might have been a shrug. Dean wondered what he was wearing. “Well, I’m ok for the moment, I’m staying with one of my brother’s in town, doesn’t look like I’ll be going back there. Insurance is already sorting it, it’s just a shame I lost so much...” he trailed off again, the sadness in his voice was heartbreaking and without thinking Dean reached out, failing to locate Castiel’s hand.

“Dude, I’m sorry.”

Castiel took Dean’s hand in both of his and gave it a soft squeeze, “if it hadn’t been for you, Dean, I would have lost much more.”

Dean cleared his throat awkwardly, feeling his face flush red, grateful for the bandages to hide the worst of it. He liked Cas, sure, but that didn’t mean he was about to get comfortable with feelings overnight. He would have laughed it off, but at that moment a knock at the door announced the arrival of the doctor and Cas took his hands back, leaving Dean feeling strangely bereft without them.

 

* * *

 

 

All things considered, it could have gone much worse. In fact, it would be hard pushed to have gone much better, unless they had removed the bandages only to fall at their feet at the miraculous recovery that had inexplicably restored Dean’s sight and healed his wounds. The doctor had decreed that the drips were no longer needed, that his body was recovering at a rate they’d expect for a man of his age and health. They didn’t foresee any lasting complications, though Dean would be glad to get under a shower and ease the worst of the aches he still felt from the ordeal. The moment of truth came with the bandages and slowly she unwound them, peeling away the gauze and Dean winced at the smell of blood and sweat that came away with it. Two cotton pads covered his eyes, though he kept them closed, and planned to until the doctor said he could open them.

“Ok, Dean, I’m just going to take away these pads, but I’ll need you to keep your eyes closed for the moment.” Dean nodded, not trusting himself to speak, beside him he thought Cas might be holding his breath too. The cotton came away and for the first time Dean felt the cool air on the fullness of his face, but with it, his heart sank. Although his eyes were closed the darkness had not changed. It did not lighten with the knowledge that sunlight lay just beyond it, everything was still dark. It was too early to make a judgement, the doctor hadn’t even looked yet, but Dean was already contemplating a sightless life, his mind running away with the worst case scenario. Once again, Castiel’s hand came and found his and he found himself clinging to it unashamedly, still not trusting himself to make a sound.

“Well I can’t see any lasting damage, and it doesn’t look like any of your facial injuries extend as far as your eyes,” the doctor was saying, almost humming it under her breath. Dean flinched when she traced a gloved finger across his brow, “in a couple of days we’ll start you on some scar cream, you’re going to have quite the story to tell.” And Dean could hear the inflexion, the smile in her voice, it should have reassured him.

Should have.

Didn’t.

“I’m just going to wipe your eyes now, it might be a bit cold...”

Despite the warning, Dean flinched when he felt the cold cotton wool against his eye, without meaning to his hand clenched tighter around Cas’. Cas squeezed back. It took an eternity, probably about three minutes, but an eternity to Dean until the doctor sighed and said, “ok. Dean, very slowly, can you open your eyes?”

For a moment, Dean didn’t move. What if he opened his eyes and saw nothing? What if there was nothing to see? He tensed without realising he’d done so, but Cas was a firm presence beside him, as though he had been there all his life, his touch gently reassuring and with one final squeeze, Dean allowed his eyes to flicker open.

Neither the doctor or Cas made a sound, that was good, right? And Dean could see! Well. Sort of. He was reminded of eye tests as a kid; the heavy press of a trial frame as the optician added lenses which only succeeded in obscuring Dean’s vision. He could see the doctor in front of him, or at least the blurred shape of her, as though he were looking at her from underwater, in particularly dirty water. “That’s great,” she said, cheerfully, “I’m just going to shine a light in your eyes, ok, Dean?” There was a light, blurred but harsh and he blinked against it, his eyes begging to be closed again, which from the sounds of it was a good thing. The doctor seemed impressed. “Alright then,” she said, “they’re healing well, and the injuries to your head are looking better too, we won’t need to bandage you quite so much this time.”

Dean allowed his eyes to close, as though it was his default setting; they weren’t used to being open anymore.

A little while later Dean was lying back in bed, two fresh patches over his eyes held in place by just a couple of wound bandages. Whatever cuts he’d sustained on his face apparently no longer needed gauze and could do with just good old fashioned plasters. Dean revelled in the weight being lifted from him. Literally. It had been hot and scratchy underneath all that dressing. Castiel’s hand was still in his and as he settled back against the pillows, Dean felt a pang of annoyance at himself that he hadn’t thought to steal a look, even if it hadn’t been a proper one.

 

* * *

 

 

 _The feelings of euphoria at being able to see the full range of colour offered by our world are often confused with feelings of love towards the person who has initiated it. However, practically speaking a soulbond progresses in much the same way any other relationship does, with both parties generally getting to know each other as normal before taking any significant steps [10]. Relationships between soulmates might come with the added assurances of ‘fate’ or ‘destiny’ but they also come with standard relationship problems and while the divorce rate between soulmated couples is lower than non-soulmated couples, it is not significantly so [11]. Sociologists suggest that a large factor of this is the prevalent notion that soulmates are “meant” to be together and thus don’t have to do anything beyond simply existing to maintain the relationship [12]. However, for those willing to put in the work, a relationship between soulmates is considered one of the most intense and fulfilling a human being can experience_.

 

* * *

 

 

“Son of a bitch!” Dean snarled, scratching at his chin furiously, as though that could alleviate the constant irritation. “Don’t look at me like that,” he added, snapping at the man beside him. It had been two days since the doctor had checked Dean’s eyes and Castiel was still coming by every day, though granted he spent a lot of time typing for his job, which Dean had yet to press him on. Dean still didn’t know what he looked like but he could feel the way Cas looked at him some times and the man had perfected the silent yet audible eye-roll.

“The nurse offered,” Cas said, patiently, “you turned her down.”

“Hey, I’m not so banged up I need a nurse to shave me.”

“You literally are, Dean,” Cas sighed. But Dean threw himself back against the pillows anyway. He could shower just fine provided he kept waterproof wrappings around the more essential bandages, but his right hand was still sporting a finger splint which would make handling a razor difficult, to say the least. And it wasn’t as though Nurse Masters hadn’t offered, saying something about how it was a sin to deprive the staff of that jawline, but Dean had foolishly thought that he could handle the annoyance of almost a week’s growth even though by now he had left stubble-ville and was likely sporting an actual beard that he didn’t want. When Nurse Masters had sighed theatrically at his refusal, Cas had had his back by assuring them that Dean’s jawline was still something to behold and in no way diminished by the presence of facial hair. It was the dorkiest compliment Dean had ever received, he’d still blushed though.

Dean was still complaining hours later when Sam showed up, having gotten off work a little earlier than planned.

“Hey Cas.”

“Hello, Sam.”

It warmed Dean’s heart that the two of them got on, even though he couldn’t pinpoint why. Usually, the three of them would talk until visiting hours officially ended, so he was surprised to hear the rustling of Cas’ coat shortly after Sam had arrived.

“Not staying?” Dean asked, hoping he didn’t sound too put out, after all, the guy spent all day every day hanging out at his bedside.

“I have some things I need to acquire before the shops close,” Cas said and Dean would never admit to finding the formal way Cas talked as completely adorable. He heard the strap of Castiel’s laptop bag slide over his coat (it sounded like a long coat) and the click of his knees as he stretched out. His hand came down onto Dean’s shoulder and gave it a friendly tap, Cas knew that Dean struggled with not being able to see anyone and liked to be reassured by touch. Or at least that’s what Dean had said to justify holding Castiel’s hand as much as he did. It wasn’t a complete lie.

“See you tomorrow, Dean,” Cas said, fondly.

“See ya, Cas.”

“Bye Cas...” Dean could hear Sam holding whatever thought he had until Cas had left and sure enough as soon as the door clicked closed, Sam shifted in his seat in his trademark ‘I’ve got something to say’ movement. Dean couldn’t exactly fix him with a glare given that his eyes were still under padding, but he tried it nonetheless. “So he comes by every day now, huh?”

Dean gave a shrug, “problem?”

“No!” Sam said, quickly, too quickly, “I’m glad you’ve got company, must suck sitting here all day on your own...”

“Yeah,” Dean sighed, because yeah, it did. “You know he gave me some audiobooks to listen to overnight.”

“Oh cool, what are you listening to?” and Sam was off, as Dean knew he would be. He didn’t want to talk to Sam about Cas, especially given that he hadn’t really talked to himself about it all yet.

 

* * *

 

 

_Soul-bonded couples often describe an inevitable pull towards each other from the earliest days of their discovery. While this would seem natural, opinion is divided on whether the bond manifests in this way or whether this is simply a placebo effect of discovering one’s soulmate [13]. What studies have been conducted into this area have proved inconclusive [14]. However, it should be noted that people who suffer with visual impairments, including colour blindness, describe an initial closeness common to the soul-bond even when they cannot clearly perceive it. As with most areas of study within animumbrology the research is ongoing._

 

* * *

 

 

Cas was running late the following morning. The call for breakfast rang through the halls and Dean frowned when he realised he couldn’t hear Cas’ familiar footsteps coming to save him from a mediocre meal. He ate an uninspiring sausage and egg sandwich, cursing the chef when he bit into it and dribbled egg yolk down his chin and onto his hospital gown but he was very aware that he was mostly put out that Cas hadn’t shown up. Breakfast was cleared away and still no Cas.

Dean leaned into the pillows, staring ahead into nothingness, hating himself for the way his stomach churned at the inevitable rejection. Cas wasn’t obliged to show up, he thought, but then he had said he would be coming by. Something probably came up and he realised how ridiculous it was to spend all day every day sitting beside a guy he barely knew but felt obliged to hang out with while he recovered. The logical part of his brain told him he was being unfair, that Cas had been nothing but sincere with him and had enjoyed their time together as much as Dean did, but it couldn’t quite quell the surprisingly strong emotions of loss rolling through Dean as he contemplated never seeing Cas again.

He would have cursed himself for being dramatic when the door flung open about an hour later and Cas stumbled through it. “Dean,” Cas panted, grasping Dean’s hand harshly, “I’m so sorry I’m late. I overslept and Gabriel moved the car keys and there was so much traffic and I-” he broke off, taking a deep breath, “I’m sorry.”

Dean couldn’t have stopped grinning if he’d wanted to, “it’s ok, Cas. You don’t have to come by every day,” he added without much conviction.

He heard the rustle of Cas’ coat pause, “do you...do you not want me to?”

“No!” Dean said quickly, probably too quickly and he continued, weakly, “I just mean you’ve probably got other stuff to be getting on with, you know, important stuff...”

From the sound of it Cas slipped had his coat off and folded it onto one of the spare chairs. “There is nothing more important than you,” and he said it with such sincerity that for a moment Dean couldn’t breathe.

“Oh,” he choked out after a moment, “wow, that’s uh...that’s...”

“If you’re agreeable, I have something I’d like to do for you this morning,” Cas said, smoothly, before Dean could embarrass himself any further.

Dean swallowed, hard, his mind running away with itself in the wake of Castiel’s revelation, “yeah?” It came out a little strained, so he cleared his throat, awkwardly and tried again, “what’s that?”

He felt Cas’ fingertips gently ghost the beard he’d unintentionally grown, “how about a shave?”

His throat had gone suddenly very dry. “Yeah, yeah ok,” Dean breathed, after too long a pause.

The sounds of Cas retrieving a bag and laying out its contents beside him broke the silence that hung between them. It was far from the first time neither of them had said anything, but Dean was uncomfortably aware of the promise that crackled through the air, the expectation that had suddenly appeared where before there had been none.

“Hey Cas,” Dean said, suddenly, blurting it out before he could second guess himself. He felt Cas turn towards him so he just powered on through, hoping he hadn’t misread anything, “when I get out of here, you wanna get a drink or dinner or something?”

The smile Cas turned on him lit up the room, even from under the bandages Dean was aware of it and he couldn’t help but smile back. “Dean, I’d love to.”

For a moment, both of them were content to smile at each other and Dean revelled in the warmth of Cas’ invisible smile before he heard Cas shift and mutter, “but first we need to do something about this beard.”

Maybe it was because they had come to a new understanding, or maybe it was their acknowledgement of their mutual attraction even in these unusual circumstances. Maybe it was just because Dean had been lying in a hospital bed for a week, but he seemed hyper-aware of Cas’ touch. The guy had decided to shave Dean in a chair rather than the bed so that nothing dripped onto the sheets even though the nurses would be along later to change them. He helped Dean from the bed into a chair, giving him a soft squeeze of the hand when he saw him wince at the pain that still remained in spite of his healing wounds.

“Relax,” Cas breathed, seeing that despite his agreement, Dean had remained tense. It was weird, sitting in a room he still hadn’t seen, with a guy he hadn’t laid eyes on about to shave him. Plus, he felt exposed in a hospital gown when Cas was fully clothed beside him. But Cas’ voice was so soothing, so grounding, Dean felt the tension bleed out of him and he settled deep into the chair, waiting for Cas to begin.

It was like being in a really weird barber shop. Dean heard water running and then Cas was before him, massaging warm water into his beard. Dean tried and failed to not flinch at the first sign of contact, but soon he found himself relaxing into the sensations of Cas hand stroking water and something sweeter smelling through the beard.

“I’m going to comb it now, and start cutting it with scissors so it’s short enough to shave,” Cas told him as he patted it dry with a towel, and somewhere inside him, Dean was smirking at how controlled Cas’ voice sounded. Too controlled. Like he was trying to restrain himself. Then there was only the sound of the comb and the snipping of the scissors as the weight fell away from Dean’s jaw. The clink of the scissors against the table told Dean when Cas was satisfied he’d gotten the beard short enough to shave and he had to bite back a soft groan when Cas’ fingers massaged some sort of shaving gel into his jaw, in gentle, circular motions. Dean tried to put his mind elsewhere, anywhere else but here, revelling in Cas’ ministrations. It was ridiculous and probably a testament to how long Dean had been laid up without distraction to find that he was getting hard from such innocent touching. At least the baggy hospital gown was there to hide his sin and as long as he didn’t shift his weight and draw attention to it, Cas probably wouldn’t notice.

Besides, Cas was engrossed in what he was doing, warning Dean quietly before he brought the razor to Dean’s jaw. He went slow, taking his time even when rinsing the blade between strokes. He didn’t make a sound, in fact, Dean noticed, Cas didn’t even seem to be breathing. He tried not to frown so that he wouldn’t mess up the lines in his face while Cas was going at them and listened. Cas _was_ breathing, but it was shallow, controlled and Dean had to stop himself from reacting again when he realised that Cas was exerting considerable effort to restrain himself.

Cas tapped away the remains of the shaving cream with the towel again and Dean felt the cold air on his jawline for the first time in days, it was refreshing, he felt clean. Then there was just the sting of the aftershave, lessened by the gentleness of Castiel’s touch, but Dean hissed against it regardless. The sound wrenched a broken moan from Cas and something in the air, thick with the tension between them, snapped suddenly as Cas held Dean’s jaw firmly and pressed their lips together. It wasn’t even a surprise and Dean couldn’t help but feel like this was a long time coming, as though this was always going to happen and Dean pressed forward, his own hand reaching up, coming to rest at the back of Castiel’s neck.

The abruptness with which Cas suddenly pulled back was a stark contrast with the tenderness he had been kissing Dean and he stumbled out an apology, “Dean, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have- I didn’t mean-”

“Hey,” Dean said, managing to snag Cas’ hands before he could pull away completely, “it’s ok.” And as though to confirm just how ok it was, he reached forward and managed to accurately guess where Cas’ lips were as he pulled him forward for another kiss. This one was brief, a comparatively chaste whisper of a thing, a reassurance that everything was just fine. Cas leaned his forehead against Dean’s, or at least against Dean’s bandages and breathed a sigh of relief, right before their lips met again. And again. And again.

If it hadn’t been for Nurse Masters opening the door without the politeness of a knock, they might not have broken apart.

“Break it up, lovebirds,” she teased, “I’ve got some observations to do before the Doctor checks your eyes again.” Cas drew away, apologising profusely, but the nurse didn’t seem to notice, choosing instead to admire Dean’s clean-shaven face, “nice work, Clarence,” and Dean could hear the grin in her voice, “you’ll put me out of a job yet.”

As Cas helped Dean slide back onto the bed while the nurse checked his charts, Dean wondered how Cas looked in the face of their interruption. Was he blushing? Flushed with embarrassment at being caught in such a compromising position? Or was he smug, smiling quietly to himself that the two of them had gotten carried away. It should have been frustrating, not knowing what Cas looked like, not knowing his face well enough to read even when he was trying to hide something, but instead, Dean just found himself looking forward to being able to discover it. What was frustrating on the other hand and had only been exacerbated by how clean Dean’s face felt after the shave, was how gross he felt everywhere else.

“Hey, Nurse, do I have to stay in this thing?” Dean asked, gesturing to the crinkled hospital wrap he’d been wearing for – well he wasn’t entirely sure, but it was definitely way too long.

Her light fingers were rotating his ankle, he couldn’t remember hurting it but there was still a lingering feeling of soreness as it moved. He’d been laid up so long, Dean wasn’t entirely sure what still hurt any more.

“It’s easier for us to do obs if you’re in something loose, so if you’ve got something baggy to change into, go ahead. Can’t promise I won’t take any pictures though,” she said, managing to brush her fingers over what had once been a particularly angry gash. It would have been better if it was Cas’ fingers, Dean thought, idly, and he was proven right when Cas took his hand when the doctor returned to check over Dean’s eyes.

Even though he knew what to expect, somehow the second checkup was more nerve-wracking than the first. What if everything had deteriorated? What if the doctor removed the pads and found that the last time had been a fluke? What if there was only darkness? A firm press of the hand brought Dean back to reality and he realised that he hadn’t heard anything the doctor had said. But Cas had noticed, Cas had brought him back. The thought was far more reassuring than it had any right to be.

Once again came the cooling touch of cotton wool being dragged across his eyelids as the doctor cleaned away whatever gunk had gathered there. Then the moment came to check his sight and Dean braced himself for more of the same; darkness. He almost fell off the bed in surprise when he found himself able to see a damn sight better than he had the last time. He could see the crisp whiteness of the doctor’s coat, she had black hair, though he couldn’t make out the style. He could see the tone of her skin and the darker shade of her lips, though the detail escaped him and he wouldn’t have been able to say what she looked like. Without realising it his head turned of its own volition to seek out Cas and he sighed to be able to see him for the first time. Sort of. A little, at least. He could make out the shape of him, sat beside the hospital bed; slim and wearing a suit if the cut of the colours was anything to go by. The white of his shirt came up too high around what Dean assumed to be his neck to be anything less than a formal collar. He had short hair, darker than Dean’s from the look of it though he couldn’t make out the exact colour. There was something else, a flash of something familiar but the doctor drew Dean’s attention away before he could pause to consider it.

“I’m going to shine a light in front of you, Dean, follow it with your eyes, not your head ok?” the doctor said, and Dean could make out the movement of her mouth as she spoke. It reassured him that he could see that, even more than it did to follow the small light, though the doctor was impressed by the latter. “You’re doing really well,” she said, with no hint of condescension and Dean couldn’t help but grin. “we’ll check again at the end of the week-” Dean’s face faltered, “I know, you’re probably itching to get out of here, but you’re still recovering even if you feel fine. We still need to keep an eye on your eyes, if you’ll pardon the pun,” she said, weakly, “but if you’re still doing as well as you have been so far there’s no reason we can’t discharge you with a referral to the eye clinic just to make sure there’s no lasting damage.”

His eyes were already starting to protest having been open for so long and even though the room wasn’t brightly lit, it all seemed a bit too much for the moment, so when the doctor slipped some fresh pads to rest over his eyes, Dean welcomed the darkness, even though he had been glad to see for a moment. As much as he had done anyway. The doctor wrapped a thin bandage to secure the dressings and Dean asked if he could go for a shower.

“Sure, just don’t get your dressings wet and don’t go taking them off, I’ve just cleaned your eyes,” the doctor chided but Dean could hear her smile.

“Thanks, doc.” He heard her leave and turned to Cas, their hands still entwined, “hey, you think you could take me to the shower?”

He tried to imagine the shadow of Cas’ lips smirking as he heard him chuckle, “we haven’t even had our first date yet, so impatient.” But he gave a gentle tug on Dean’s hand to help him rise and steered him from the room regardless.

 

* * *

 

The shower was glorious even if Dean had to keep his head at an awkward angle to ensure he didn’t get the dressings damp. The water pressure was stronger than he was used to but it seemed to be doing wonders for the aches he was still carrying. That and it had been so long since he’d had a shower, he was happy to waste a bit of water if it meant he could spend longer stripping away over a week of a hospital bed. Those were the excuses he would use when Cas asked him if he was alright after taking far longer in the shower than a normal person would have done. They were at least a part truth, but Dean wasn’t about to say that he got distracted thinking about the guy he’d just laid eyes on for the first time, even though he hadn’t seen very much.

Not that Dean was thinking much on his looks. Instead, his thoughts were drifting to how easy everything was with the guy. It was weird enough that he’d found the guy interesting enough to ask him out on a date, well, not just interest, but Cas was gorgeous and he didn’t even know what he looked like. They got on so well, so effortlessly, Dean couldn’t remember ever falling into such a natural rhythm with anyone else before. Even Sam would be grating on him if he spent as much time beside Dean as Cas was. Lying bandaged in a hospital bed was hardly conducive to stimulating interactions, but Cas was- Cas was something else. And that kiss…

He couldn’t remember the last time he felt like this and it was kinda scary to feel it now, especially when it could be argued he barely knew the guy. He’d not had such an immediate and natural connection for...well so long. Not since Lisa for sure, and even then they’d been living together for a few months before they’d gotten along half as well as Dean and Cas seem to be. He wondered what colour Cas’ eyes were, but the thought prompted something on the edge of his periphery. Something nagging at him that he couldn’t quite remember, something important that had been forgotten. It wasn’t the kind of thing you could ask in polite conversation, he might as well as how big a dick he had. He could always ask what colour Cas couldn’t see, that wasn’t quite as rude. Not that he was wedded to the idea that Cas was his soulmate, he’d never been that fussed on finding them before, and he wasn’t one of these guys to pass up a date just coz he couldn’t suddenly see every colour of the rainbow. He’d only been turned down for that reason a handful of times, it just wasn’t something that he’d thought about. So he couldn’t really explain why his heart seemed to leap at the thought that after all this time, it might be Cas.

 

* * *

 

_Despite the prevalence of soul bonding in popular media, the chances of meeting your soul mate are fairly low [15]. Most studies show that less than half of people actually find their soul mate, though the number is ever increasing, probably due to increased social mobility, improved transportation and affordable travel. Social media has also proved assistive in this regard, allowing people to seek their soul mate on a far larger platform than people have been used to. Despite this, in a study of people actively seeking their soul mate [16] it was found that the greatest motivator was to rectify extreme colour blindness. Over 70% of those surveyed wanted to find their soul mate primarily because they could not see anything on that particular spectrum compared to 48% seeking a romantic relationship._

 

* * *

 

“This is grotesquely unfair,” Cas grumbled under his breath, steering Dean back into his room. “You really have no business looking this good when you’re supposed to be laid up.”

Dean grinned, “you ok there, Cas?”

“No,” Cas mumbled, “no I’m not.”

As soon as Dean was settled in the chair beside his bed (he was getting kinda bored of sitting with pillows), the warmth of Cas’ hand was gone from his back and Dean heard him crossing to the other side of the room. Dean laughed, long and hard, it had been a while since he’d found something so genuinely funny. But Cas had been waiting for him outside of the shower and greeted him with a breathless curse when Dean had finally emerged. Not one to be self-conscious, Dean knew he generally looked good, but he hadn’t appreciated that Cas, who obviously found him attractive anyway, had only seen him banged up under a hospital gown. The guy wasn’t prepared for Dean, rosy and damp from the shower in a plain cotton tee and a pair of boxers. The knowledge had put a shit-eating grin on Dean’s face and it hadn’t gone anywhere.

“What're you doing over there?” Dean asked, innocently.

“Looking at a far less inspiring view,” Cas deadpanned right back and Dean laughed again, clutching a space at his ribs that protested the hilarity. “Though the sky looks nice,” he added, thoughtfully, “the sun is just starting to set so the clouds look almost pink against light blues starting to turn dark.”

Dean snorted at the image Cas had painted, “I can’t see blue,” he muttered, feeling Cas’ questioning eyes upon him.

“But-” Cas started but then he broke off. Dean waited, wondering what it was he was going to say that had gotten him so instantly flustered. “My eyes are blue,” Cas said, quietly and Dean knew he really shouldn’t put much stock in that whispered fact even as his heart threatened to leap out of his chest.

The feeling was short lived. Not half an hour later Sam arrived, bearing an oversized bouquet.

“It’s from the paper,” Sam explained, letting Dean feel his way around it, “you’re their hero of the month,” he teased, before pressing a small card into Dean’s hand, “there’s a giftcard for the new pizza place on second too. So it’s not all bad.”

“Hey great, you like pizza, Cas?”

Even unable to see, Dean recognised Sam’s frown and he could imagine him looking between the two of them, trying to figure out what the invitation meant. But Cas hadn’t said anything. Dean cleared his throat awkwardly, “Cas? You ok there?”

“Yes, sorry,” Cas said, a little breathless for some reason. Dean heard him move closer to the bed, “the flowers are beautiful I just...I’m not used to...it’s...” he sighed, as though pinching his nose trying to force himself to breathe normally, “it’s all just so beautiful, the leaves...they’re so green, I didn’t-” but Dean didn’t hear what he was saying. As quickly as the feeling of elation that there was an outside chance Cas could be the one had arrived, it was gone. Cas could see green. It shouldn’t have mattered. Hell, it didn’t matter. He couldn’t say why he had even had the thought in the first place. He wasn’t a teenage girl pining for the kind of love you only saw in the cinema, it had never bothered him before, why did it bother him now? He was being ridiculous, Dean told himself sternly. But even the internal dressing down he gave himself didn’t help the strange churning in his gut and he was kinda glad when Cas told Sam that Dean had had a long day, and that was probably why he was so quiet right now.

 

* * *

 

 

By the time visiting hours ended Dean was feeling thoroughly miserable, exacerbated by the guilt of barely saying a word to his brother and Cas. Not that they minded, they chalked it up to the fact that he was laid up and not going anywhere fast, still unable to see, and while that may have all been true, it didn’t help him feel any better. Cas lingered a little as they said their goodbyes, assuring Dean he’d be back the following day though it was laden with hesitation. Dean wondered if he was going to kiss him again, but instead, he just let his hand remain on Dean’s for far longer than he had before and leaned in a little closer than he usually did to say good night. Even in the darkness, Dean could feel Sam’s questioning gaze and he was kind of glad Cas hadn’t gone as far as kissing him. 

Of all the nights Dean had spent in the hospital, that one was one of the worst. Of course, it had no reason to be, not really, which only seemed to fuel his frustration. There was an itch under his skin he couldn’t scratch, his thoughts whirling, unwilling to be pinned down but ultimately came down to the same tug in his gut; Cas wasn’t his soulmate. And so what, exactly? Why was his stomach turning itself inside out over a guy he liked before the first date. With a sigh that let itself out more like a pained groan, Dean ran his hands over his face, flinching when he came into touch with the gauze that still covered his eyes. This wasn’t him. These thoughts weren’t him. Sam had been right, he was lacking in stimulation, laid up on the same hospital mattress, unable to interact with anyone beyond Cas who obliged by holding his hand as often as he did.

He found the iPod Cas had given him and slipping the headphones in he played the first audiobook on the list. A classic, by Cas’ standards at least. Settling into the pillows, he let the words wash over him and it was weirdly comforting.

“ _Paradise Lost by John Milton...Of man’s first disobedience, and the fruit of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste brought Death into the world, and all our woe..._ ”

Even though he couldn’t follow it all that well, a feeling of warmth spread through Dean. This was so very _Cas_. So much so that if he allowed his mind to settle, he could imagine the guy was right beside him, and that was all he needed to fall into a peaceful, narrated sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

_Much has been written about the psychological effects of discovering a soul bond. But a relatively recent field is evolving in the area of physical reactions and any impact the bond has on biology. While people have always reported physical symptoms in relation to discovering their soul mate it has been difficult to separate actual biological reactions from psychosemantic ones. This issue is further complicated by the lack of consistency in alleged symptoms which range from minor flu-like afflictions to severe limb and/or joint pain [17]. The case of Natalia Slovenka gained widespread fame and notiriety when, in 1981, she claimed she had met her soul mate who died later that same day requiring her hospitalisation [18]. While Slovenka claimed that the physical repercussions of the bond almost killed her sceptics maintain that she was simply hysterical in the face of such a tragedy._

 

* * *

 

 

“...what? Yes of course I am. No, he’s asleep right now-”

“...why on earth would you think I’d ever agree to that?”

“...absolutely not, I swear to God Gabriel don’t you dare-”

“I’ll tell him, I will, it’s complicated...”

“You sound like Sam...maybe the two of you should hang out and you can leave me alone...”

“This really is none of your business. Gabriel, I love you and I’m grateful that you’re putting me up, but if you show up here you’ll need to skip the country and change your name _again_. Understand?”

Dean woke up slowly. The headphones had somehow remained in his ears despite the sleep, though the book had long finished and he gave a small start of surprise to realise he’d slept through the nurse’s observations. And breakfast apparently, given that he could hear Cas beside him. Cas was speaking so quietly, barely above a whisper and Dean couldn’t hear a responding voice so he figured Cas was on the phone, one hand resting gently on top of Dean’s. The warmth of the touch quelled whatever fears had raged in him the night before, even though his own hand felt clammy, a little sweaty.

“...Ok, I’ll see you later...I know...goodbye.”

Cas sighed, heavily, his hand squeezing Dean’s gently, almost instinctively.

“That your brother?” Dean asked, and for a moment he was surprised as to why Cas drew his hand back so sharply he might have been burned as a yelp of surprise escaped him. In a way, it was kind of comforting to know that he’d gotten so used to the darkness that it had not occurred to him that Cas had no way of knowing he was awake.

He couldn’t help but chuckle when Cas managed to compose himself enough for a ragged, “you’re awake!”

“Sorry, I should’a said something,” Dean smirked, but it became an easy smile when Cas took his hand again.

“I’m sorry if I woke you, why my brother couldn’t have annoyed me over dinner or breakfast escapes me.”

There was something off about Cas’ voice and beneath the bandages, Dean frowned. “You ok, you sound...rough?”

There was a pause before Cas’ other hand came to rest, tentatively on Dean’s cheek, “I...didn’t sleep well,” he confessed and Dean felt his cheeks grow hot underneath the touch. Cas let out a ‘hm’ of concern and then his hand was touching Dean’s other cheek, his forehead and he said, “you feel hot.”

Dean raised his own hand to his forehead, it was warmer than usual, but then so was his hand. He shrugged it off, “it’s a bit stuffy in here, could you open a window?”

There was a moment where it felt like Cas was going to protest, but he didn’t and Dean felt a little better when he felt the first brush of cool air meet him. The air around him displaced as Cas returned, but then the bed dipped and Dean realised he had gotten up onto the bed to sit beside him.

“Dean, I’m sorry if this is forward, but...may I kiss you again?”

The grin spread across Dean’s lips before the question had settled and he was glad he wasn’t hooked up to one of those heart monitors for surely it would either be flatlining right now or racing so hard the nurse would be alerted. He swallowed, but his throat was dry and in lieu of speaking he just nodded and reflexively he felt his eyes twitch as though to close. Cas didn't notice any of these things as he leaned in and closed the distance between them.

Clarity.

Kissing Castiel was clarity. The whirling thoughts that had distracted Dean the day before calmed and time itself seemed to slow, there was nothing beyond Cas’ lips on his, parting gently as his fingers traced the edge of Dean’s bandages, coming to rest at the back of his head, holding him while they tentatively explored each other.

Everything was right and when they finally, finally broke apart, neither of them moved very far; Cas’ hands still cupped Dean’s face and Dean’s own fingers had curled into the front of Cas’ shirt, holding him there. Cas covered his face, his bandages in feather-light kisses, whispering things Dean couldn’t quite make out, he was so dizzy with it all.

At this point in proceedings, Dean should have been freaking out. His inner voice, the greatest of self sabeuteurs should have been telling him how ridiculous this was, as it had managed to do so far. He barely knew Cas and though they’d agreed on a date that was hardly the basis for a lifelong commitment. Why was he even thinking in those terms? Why was the idea of a moment without Cas enough to choke him? Why, after such a short amount of time, was he thinking beyond their first date? Somewhere in his mind someone who sounded a lot like Sam was talking about a lack of stimulation and how pathetic it was that he’d anchored himself to Cas in his pain and fear. But all of that faded into nothing when Cas leaned in and kissed him again. The words, a declaration Dean had only made once before and even then it hadn’t felt like this, were on the tip of his tongue, but he didn’t say them, not when Cas was pressing against him so tenderly and saying something that sounded suspiciously like, “I miss you.”

“I can’t wait for you to get out of here so we can do all this properly,” Cas whispered, his breath warm on Dean’s lips. Dean released his grip on Cas’ shirt enough to pull him closer and Dean had never been much of a cuddler but he was safe and warm in Cas’ arms. Soulmates be damned, he wasn’t going to let Cas go.

 

* * *

 

 

The feeling lasted for a few hours at most before Dean was groaning into his own fingers and snapping, “I’m fine,” after Cas asked, _again_ , if he was alright. His voice sounded hoarse even to his own ears, but that was just down to the tickle in his throat. He tried sipping some water, not helping alleviate Cas’ obvious concern when he spluttered on the liquid and succeeding in dribbling more down his chin than he’d managed to swallow. “I’m fine, Cas,” Dean warned before Cas could ask him again, though he was grateful when he felt Cas dab at the spillage with something to dry it up.

Cas didn’t question him again, returning to whatever he had been typing beside him, but the frequent pauses told Dean that he kept looking over and Dean could feel the concern in his gaze. Petulently, he slipped further under the scratchy hospital issue blankets, trying to make himself comfortable which seemed impossible today. He huffed loudly and felt Cas’ glare, but he ignored him. Maybe it was because he had taken so long to fall asleep the night before but he felt tired, his eyes would surely be dropping if they weren’t already forced closed underneath the bandage. Not for the first time that day, or even that hour Dean reached up and tried to scratch underneath the coverings around his eye; they were too tight and too loose at the same time.

“Dean,” Cas snapped, as he had done every time he’d seen him fiddling with the bandages. Dean let his arm fall, heavily, the soft thud the only indication that he was as pissed at Castiel as he was. He wished he had use of his eyes just so he could glare at the guy. This time, when Cas’ hand reached out for Dean’s forehead, he flinched away from the touch. How had they been making out just that morning when he was managing to get on every nerve Dean had? “You’re burning up,” Cas muttered, “I’m going to get a nurse.”

“I’m fine!” Dean called after him, but Cas was already gone. Dean was left, mumbling incoherent curses under his breath and though he reached for the water to clear his throat, he found that he didn’t quite have the energy to lift his arm up.

 

* * *

 

_The physical element of the soul bond is an emerging area of study, with academic and scientific interest turning to it only in the last fifty years. Specific areas of study include initial biological reactions to discovering the soul bond (beyond the emergence of the soul colour)[19], the so-called physical ‘pull’ experienced by recently soul bonded couples [20] and physical reactions to being parted from a soul mate in the short term [21] and the long term [22]._

_*As an emergent area of study there is a comparative lack of evidence and studies available. However, as past students have indicated an interest in exploring these studies further, ‘The Biology of a Soul-Bond’ will be run as an optional and ungraded seminar_.

 

* * *

 

 

All was fragments and darkness. Fragments of darkness. On the very edge of his periphery, Dean was aware of people moving around him. Sometimes he could feel something poking at him, though he had so little sense of his body he couldn’t have said where. He would try and shy away from it, but there was always a grip, firmer to hold him in place. Every now and then something cool would be pressed to his forehead and in those times Dean could relax a little against the burning that was his skin. Not that he had much awareness of his skin. Not that he had much awareness of anything.

There were voices. Sam was there, Cas was there more. The others he didn’t recognise and he couldn’t discern what they were saying, maybe nobody was talking. It was likely his imagination. Nothing felt real. There were swirls of unknowable colours and someone was crying out, though it might have been Dean himself for all he knew. There were few certainties beyond the frustration and the pain.

In dreams, Lisa would be there, but Dean would not realise they were dreams until later. He was back at the house they shared, Ben had been sent upstairs to do something innocuous while the adults talked, but the kid wasn’t stupid. He knew. Lisa had been nothing but kind as she let Dean down gently, or as gently as one could in the circumstances. They had always known after all that they weren’t soul mates and in their youth or perhaps naivety they hadn’t thought it would matter in the long run. It hadn’t mattered to Dean. Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered to Lisa, at least until she met _the one._ But sometimes, when she started talking about how amazing it all was, how bad she felt for Dean (the pity was the worst) it was Cas telling him that they weren’t working out after all and Dean better leave. Ben took it hard, but Cas assured him it was for the best, but that wasn’t right. Cas didn’t know Ben. But by the time Lisa made a reappearance, his head hurt some more and he would have killed a man for some water, even though he couldn’t quite figure out where his hands were.

 

* * *

 

When Dean woke up, the first breath felt like a shock to his lungs, gasping it down as he did. He hadn’t jerked into consciousness, he had simply opened his eyes and found himself staring up at the nondescript hospital ceiling. It took a moment for him to regulate his breathing, as though he hadn’t done it for some time, but from the various tubes he could feel across his face, it seemed as though he had a nasal cannula tucked into his nose. Another tube fed into his hand and he saw a new drip stand with various bags beside the bed, feeding him some unknown liquid. His other hand was warm and when he glanced down at it he saw Cas, hunched over the bed at an awkward angle, holding onto Dean’s hand with both of his own, resting his face against it as he slept.

 _Oh_.

Even in sleep Cas was breathtaking and Dean couldn’t help but stare. Hell, this was the first time he was really looking at Cas so he could be forgiven. The realisation hit him with greater force than the collapsing debris that had landed him in hospital in the first place and without meaning to, he yanked his hands up to touch his face. The bandages were gone, the pads too, and in their place were a pair of glasses. From the way the whole room looked dim, despite the light he could make out filtering around the drawn blinds, they were tinted, heavily tinted given that everything was so dark it might as well have been monochrome. But, however dimly, he could see.

Disturbed by the movement Cas was shifting against the bed, letting out a soft groan as he came to enough to realise how awkwardly he’d slept. Dean watched, holding his breath without realising it, taking in every movement Cas made as he woke. There was a grimace, even though he hadn’t opened his eyes yet as he stretched his arms out behind him and even Dean winced at the audible ‘clicks’ that resonated around them as a result. He ran one hand blindly over his face and through his hair, though it did little to muss what seemed to be an untameable look at the best of times. When his eyes opened, Dean saw that they were pale and he wondered, not for the first time in his life, what blue looked like, not that he’d be able to appreciate it wearing what amounted to sunglasses indoors. They may be medicinal, but he still felt like a douchebag. For a moment, just a breath of a moment, Cas beamed at Dean and it felt as though he’d stepped into the sun after a long winter, but the moment passed quickly in favour of Cas practically launching himself forward ino an awkward embrace.

He breathed, “Dean!” and it sounded so reverent, as though his name was a gift, that Dean felt his cheeks flush against him, glad that Cas couldn’t see him right now. “You’re alright.”

“Hey Cas, what...what happened?” rasped Dean, his voice hoarse from a lack of use and a parched throat.

Cas reached for the water jug automatically, wincing a little from the stiffness of his arms. “You’ve been suffering from an infection. The doctors are undecided as to what caused it, whether one of your injuries brought it on or perhaps you caught it here. Either way, you’ve been feverish and delirious for a few days, I…I was worried,” he said, sincerely, and if his tone wasn’t convincing enough, the stubbled jaw, bags under the eyes, rumpled shirt and the falling asleep against the bed were certainly evidence in his favour. Taking the water gratefully, Dean was careful not to drink it all at once, a distant memory of someone saying, ‘slow sips’ coming back to him. “They had to take the bandages off your eyes, you kept clawing at them, it was probably uncomfortable for you. The glasses are so your eyes can get used to light again,” Cas hesitated for a moment, “how are they?”

He may have been sipping water but Dean realised then that he’d actually been staring at Cas the whole time. He glanced around the room to take in what he could see and gave a relieved sigh, “they’re ok. I mean everything’s dark and I’m wearing sunglasses indoors which sucks...” he squinted at a sign above the sink in his room, “things are a little blurry, but, hey, it beats the alternative. I’m ok with it. Besides, it’s good to see you, y’know, at last...”

Dean was staring again, he couldn’t help it and Cas flushed a little. “I hope you’re not changing your mind about our date,” he teased, with no hint of actual worry.

For Dean, who spent his life second-guessing himself it was refreshing to see such self-assurance and he beamed back, “you kidding? I lucked out big time.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Cas winced, “I imagine I look a mess. I haven’t showered or changed my clothes for a few days.”

“Well if this is you on a bad day I might not survive your good day,” Dean replied, smoothly. Now that he could see Cas, even as poorly as this, he felt way more confident than he had. Now things felt a little more equal, though at this point he was convinced that either way he’d have found Cas gorgeous. The guy was perfect, regardless of what he looked like. They might have been content to stare at each other for a while longer had Dean not started coughing his guts up with little provocation. Cas deftly retrieved his water glass before he could drop it and ran his hand in soothing circles over Dean’s back, apparently unfazed by the sudden change in mood.

“Maybe we should hold off flirting until you get better?”

“Shame,” Dean rasped and he might have managed a wink if he hadn’t locked into another spasm as a second coughing fit took over. By the time Cas managed to track down a nurse to tell them that Dean was awake, the idea of flirting was a distant fantasy. Instead, Cas held Dean’s hand throughout the observations and smiled so softly at him, Dean felt them settle into the easy intimacy of a long-term couple.

 

* * *

 

 

 _Given that we have considered, albeit to different degrees, psychological, biological and even sociological elements of the soul bond it would be remiss to not mention the spirituality of the soul bond. Without exception all of the major theistic religions consider the soul bond to be a gift from their God or Gods, a rare point of agreement between the groups. Over the centuries a multitude of religious groups have split from the major religions and in most of these cases, the intent has been to place greater or lesser importance on the soul bond [23]. As well as this, there have been a large number of cults that have appeared (and disappeared) that place specific emphasis on the soul-bond. Despite the large numbers of seemingly different cults, they more often than not can be found to share the same core beliefs; namely that the soul bond between their members is ‘unique’ to them. Regardless of the realities or validity of these beliefs, we can at least appreciate that the notion of soul bonding is as central to religious teachings as it is popular media_.

 

* * *

 

 

“Cas, go home man, you look like crap.”

“Thank you, Sam, I appreciate your support at this trying time.”

“You know what I mean, I’ll stay with him til they kick me out, you can head off.”

“I will...once he wakes up again, I won’t leave without saying goodbye.”

“...have you thought some more about what I said?”

“I have...”

“...and?”

“The nurse thinks if he eats well tomorrow they’ll take him off the drip Thursday...if he’s strong enough I thought...I thought I might do it then.”

“Really? You’re gonna do it? Cas, that’s fantastic.”

“...Yes...well...now that the bandages have been removed it’s only a matter of time...and I wanted to be the one to...”

“Hey, hey you know it’s going to be alright, right? ... _Cas_? It’s going to be fine, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Maybe.”

“ _Maybe_?! Dude! Seriously?! I’ve never seen him like this, have you see the way he looks at you? ...Ok, maybe not...but...you know what I mean. I’ve never seen him warm to someone so quickly, don’t think I haven’t seen you guys making out before I show up, the window is _right there_. ..He knows y’know. I mean, he might not _know_ , but he knows.”

“...is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“It’s gonna go great-”

Dean shifted in the bed, disturbed at last more by the length of the conversation than its volume. What had they been saying? Something about him, maybe? Cas was going to do something or...say something or...something? It might have been a dream, but as soon as his eyes flickered open he saw Sam and Cas exchange hesitant looks, as though they’d just been caught out. Not that Dean had the inclination to ponder it, not when he was seeing his brother in the flesh for the first time in weeks.

“Heya Sammy,” he rasped and Cas immediately moved to pour him a glass of water.

“Glad you’re back with us,” Sam grinned, “but hold off on scaring us like that again, yeah? I’m way too young to be worrying about my blood pressure.”

Dean snorted into his water, “sure thing, mom,” and was gratified when Cas chuckled along with him. He took the glass back as soon as Dean was finished with it, as though something as minor as returning an empty glass to the table was too much effort for the injured man and Dean was on the verge of making a joke about it when Cas rose and slipped on a tan trench coat.

When he caught Dean staring he mistook it for a question and took Dean’s hand in the reassuring way he had when the bandages were still on. “I’m going to go home and finally change out of these clothes. Besides, I have to make sure my brother hasn’t gotten bored enough to hide all my stuff...again.”

There was a story there, several stories if the way Cas sighed was anything to go by, so Dean hardly begrudged him getting out early. He tilted his head up and Cas leaned in for a chaste kiss, both of them grinning when they broke apart. Cas caught his lips again and left a lingering kiss on Dean’s forehead, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, “good night, Sam.”

Sam had averted his eyes, staring up at the ceiling as though it were the most fascinating thing to hand, but he waved Cas off nonetheless. Just as Cas got to the door he paused, taking a moment to glance back at Dean, who, naturally, was staring right at him. So sue him, he hadn’t gotten used to being able to see yet and however dim the view, Cas was _gorgeous_. His hand was on the door handle and then, suddenly, he crossed the room, giving Dean another final kiss, yes this was definitely the last one. Ok, maybe one more.

“Cas!” Sam snapped from the corner, but there was no real malice behind it, “go home, man!”

One more kiss and then he headed off, properly this time though he did linger in the doorway for a moment before Sam threatened to have him removed. Even after Cas had passed the windows looking into the hallway Dean stared after him, a small smile playing on his lips while his brother teased him.

“So you guys got it bad, huh?”

Dean was in too good a mood to be bothered by Sam’s bitching, “I ain’t knocking it.”

Sam raised his hands up defensively, “no man, I’m glad, really and it’s good to see him smile, he was worried sick while you were out of it, y’know. I mean, I was too, but Cas...should have seen him when the nurse tried to kick him out.”

“Wait...what d’you mean _tried_ to kick him out?”

“End of visiting and all that, did he not...oh...” Sam flushed a little, “oh he didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“Dean, Cas has been here the whole time. Since you went down with whatever it was he’s been right next to you. The nurses tried to get rid of him the first night but uh...he convinced them to let him stay. This is the first time he’s going home this week, man.”

Sam regarded hios brother with caution. As though Dean might react badly to the news and start freaking out, even though he’d been happy to kiss Cas just a few moments before. Dean couldn’t really blame him, after all, since Lisa he’d had a habit of freaking out when stuff got serious. It wasn’t even worth analysing or talking about, of course, he’d gotten jittery when feelings started, he’d thought Lisa was the one after all, even though technically he’d known she actually wasn’t. But with Cas...everything was different. It would be Dean’s M.O. to freak out a little, but instead, he just settled into the pillows with a wistful, ‘huh.’ Sam waited...and waited...but any further reaction never came. Instead, Dean pondered how he’d feel if Cas was laid up and decided that actually, he’d probably want to stay beside him too.

“Wow,” breathed Sam, when it became clear his brother wasn’t about to dissolve into his usual second-guessing, “you guys got it real bad.”

“Shut up, Sammy,” Dean muttered, though he couldn’t help but beam when Sam smiled at him, glad to have his brother back.

 

* * *

 

 

_Hopefully, this introduction to the syllabus has proved useful and if you require further reading the citations in this essay serve as an extended reading list._

_There will be three optional and ungraded seminars, one per term, that will be run purely for interest's sake. Dates are to be confirmed however the titles of each lecture are as follows:_

_‘The Biology of the Soul-Bond’_

_A concise but detailed study at the biological reactions between a soul-bonded couple._   
_Guest lecturer: Dr D. Roman_

_‘The Soul-Bond on the Big Screen: Comparing Titanic (1997), The Little Mermaid (1989) and Jurassic World (2015)’_

_A comparative study of how varying degrees of soul-bond are portrayed in cinema with a follow-up discussion on harmful and positive stereotypes._

_‘The Historicity of the Soul-bond’_

_A visual study of the soul-bond as perceived throughout History._

_The assignment list can be found online and my office hours are Monday, Tuesday and Friday mornings_.

 

* * *

 

 

In the short time between waking and Cas’ arrival, Dean had been experimenting with the idea of taking off his glasses with limited success. Everything seemed far too bright without them and the doctor had warned him he’d have to wear sunglasses for a while until his eyes adjusted to being healthy again. But with the blinds closed over all the windows and the lights dimmed, Dean could handle looking at the room without the tinted shades. Not that it was particularly exciting, the room was a vision of neutrality featuring beige and magnolia and the details were rather blurry in places, but it was good enough. He could see.

Nurse Masters announced herself harshly by flinging open the door and calling, “breakfast,” in a sing-song voice. Although Dean had recoiled from the sudden light, he’d also marvelled at the sudden blast of colour. He took in her dark hair, darker eyes, the green of her uniform and a shade of lipstick so red it might have looked garish on anyone else; between the darkness of the glasses and the bandages before them and now the uninspiring hospital room it was just nice to be reminded of the existence of colour.

The nurse gave a slight tut of disapproval but seemed to be grinning despite it, “shades on, Winchester, doctor’s orders!” Even with the glasses on Dean could still make her out and he found he couldn’t stop grinning. “Hey now, don’t go getting any ideas, not when lover boy is just out there.”

“Cas is here already?” Dean asked, instantly distracted, even though a moment ago he would have sworn Nurse Masters was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen.

She moved around the bed with practised ease, checking the bag of fluid still connected to his hand, while checking his charts and still managing to drawl, “you’re kidding, right? He’s usually here a good half hour before visiting starts just so he knows he’s on time. Must be nice,” she added, thoughtfully. Outside, in the hallway, the distant tone of a buzzer rang out, notifying everyone that visiting hours had started and Nurse Masters gave an audible fifteen-second countdown, squealing with delight when Cas arrived just as she called, “one!”

He looked confused as he stepped in and received so much ceremony, Nurse Masters practically jumping on the spot while Dean applauded her. “Did I miss something?”

Dean was about to answer when his eyes were instantly drawn to Cas, who in the light of the morning, rested, showered and clean shaven looked a hundred times better than he had the day before if that was at all possible. His hair was still indecently tousled though and Dean couldn’t blame the drip on the sudden dryness in his throat. He was so caught up in staring at Castiel’s beautiful face that he completely missed the large bouquet in his arms until the nurse drew attention to it. “Aren’t you boys past the flowers and chocolate phase yet?”

Even from behind the shades Dean could see the flush in Cas’ cheek as he mumbled, “actually, they’re for you,” and for the first time since Dean had been admitted, Nurse Masters had been rendered speechless. “They’re an apology for the way I acted recently and a thank you for letting me stay while Dean was unconscious.”

“Oh, they’re beautiful, Clarence!”

“That’s not my name...”

She took them from his arms and inhaled deeply, the flush hadn’t left Castiel’s cheeks. “I hope that’s all you’ve brought though. No breakfast that hasn’t been hospital approved today, Winchester.” It was harder to tell whether it was Cas or Dean that looked more aghast at the prospect, which made her laugh a little. “It’s just to see how you handle the food, we wanna get you off that drip and back on solid foods, but we’re not going to rush it. Hope you like oatmeal,” she beamed, whisking herself from the room with the bouquet pressed to her chest.

Cas crossed the room and pressed a casual kiss to the top of Dean’s head as he shucked off his trench coat and Dean couldn’t help the flush of warmth that spread through him at such a natural display of affection.

“How are you feeling?” Cas asked, his eyes focused on Dean as though he were the most important thing in the world.

“Good,” Dean shrugged, “a little tired. It’s weird not eating, be glad to have proper food in me.”

Cas nodded and before he sat down offered, “I’ll go get you some breakfast.”

He returned a short time later, his nose turned up at the bowl in his hand. Dean took it and complained heartily at how bland it was, though it was hot at least and the feeling of hot food had him feeling a little better from the off. That had been the extent of their conversation before it seemed the world descended on them; apparently, Sam had excitedly told everyone and anyone that Dean was doing ok and could handle visitors now. In Sam’s defence, he couldn’t have expected almost everyone they knew to drop in that same day.

It was Bobby who came by first, just as Dean finished the last mouthful of gross porridge, slapping him on the shoulder so hard he almost spat it out again. “Good to see you, boy,” Bobby said, with as much enthusiasm as their apprehension to discuss feelings allowed. “You’ve had us worried.” Reaching up, Dean covered Bobby’s hand, still on his shoulder, with his own and smiled up at him. “Idjit,” Bobby muttered, gruffly, pulling his hand away and settling in the chair Cas had just vacated for him.

Bobby talked about what Dean was missing at the auto-shop, though he’d promised he’d kept a sweet restoration job behind for when Dean was ready to come back and wouldn’t hear even a hint of an apology when Dean tried to say sorry for missing so much work.

“Don’t give me that crap, boy,” Bobby growled and if you didn’t know him you’d think he was annoyed over affectionate, “you’re a damned hero saving those people the way you did, you come back when you’re good and ready. Your job’s not going anywhere.”

Bobby didn’t stay long, patting Dean’s shoulder when he came to leave. Cas had moved to the opposite corner of the room, holed up with his laptop so that he didn’t interrupt Dean’s time with his other visitors, but when Bobby rose, Cas rose too and they met in the middle of the room to shake hands.

“When this one’s outta here we’ll have you boys up for dinner. If you’re gonna be part of the family you’re gonna have to eat like it, son.”

Cas grinned and saw him out, leaving Dean somewhere between confused and in awe that Bobby had apparently taken to Cas so quickly, especially given that they hadn’t had their first date yet. Not that he had much time to consider it or bring it up with Cas. They barely managed a smile at each other before the door opened before Cas could fully close it and the Sheriff, Jody Mills was pushing her way in.

They caught a breather just before Sam arrived, by which point Dean could barely keep his eyes open. By the time Jody had left he’d been lagging, but then Donna showed up, followed by Benny and Andrea who had at least brought food. “Don’t trust the food here, brother,” Benny had said, passing him a freshly baked pie that Dean would have killed to have eaten but he was so tired…

Cas had seen how exhausted Dean was getting and after Benny and Andrea left he suggested Dean get a nap but then he would have missed lunch and of course there were more observations for the nurses to do. Garth made an appearance, so had Eileen and Cas had put himself in the direct line of conversation to try and give Dean a break. Eileen picked up on it fairly quickly and didn’t stay long but by the time she left Cas was threatening to bar the doors. “It’s ok, Cas,” Dean breathed, wearily

“No, it’s not, look at you,” Cas fussed, pulling the blanket tighter around Dean who was already drifting, “please, sleep, Dean.”

“But...Sam...”

“Sam will understand, go to sleep.”

When Cas pulled all the blinds across and started switching off the lights, Dean knew he was done for, already surrendering to the warmth of the bed. “I like that everyone likes you,” he slurred, quietly, and if Cas gave a response he didn’t hear it. Instead, he felt Cas’ hand come around his, his other hand gently stroking the side of Dean’s face, as though he needed any encouragement to fall asleep. “I like you,” he murmured, already half asleep and therefore not responsible for anything he said, “you should stay.”

 

* * *

 

 

Dean slept badly, his overtired brain conjuring up all sorts of fevered dreams. The room was filled with people, all talking over each other, sometimes talking to Dean demanding his attention, even though he was clearly exhausted. He asked them to leave him alone, but they ignored him, asking him questions he didn’t know the answer to, wanting him to participate in the conversations as much as they were. Cas was in the corner, working on his laptop, of course, but he didn’t look up when Dean called out to him and he only got berated by Jody...or was it...Donna? It might have been both or neither but whoever it was told him not to disturb the guy while he worked.

He woke suddenly, aware that someone was touching him, only to succeed in giving the attending nurse a fright and she jumped back from the bed as Dean jolted upright. Her hand was on his shoulder reassuringly, “it’s ok Mr Winchester, just doing some checks,” she whispered and he settled, instantly.

It wasn’t Nurse Masters, she would have finished a few hours earlier. He couldn’t remember this one’s name, Annie, Anna, Anne? Something like that. She was just applying some fresh gauze to hold the now empty cannula in his hand in place, from what Cas had said Dean had a habit of trying to pull things off him while he slept. Though he thought he could be forgiven given how uncomfortable it all was. It was dark in the room save for the distant light of the nurse’s station which sent a warm glow into the hallway beyond Dean’s door. Not that Dean could see much of it through the tinted glasses and realising that they’d been pressed uncomfortably into his face from the way he’d slept he slipped them off without thinking.

“You’ll have to put them back on in the morning,” the nurse said, quietly, and Dean nodded, placing them on the blurry cabinet beside him. He jumped when he saw Cas asleep in the chair beside him, his head awkwardly slumped into his shoulder in a way that made Dean grimace just for seeing it. The guy was going to be in pain in the morning.

“I didn’t think you let anyone stay past visiting hours,” Dean muttered as the nurse moved away.

In the dimness of the room, he saw her smile, “depends on the ward. We allow soulmates, next of kin or others if there are extenuating circumstances. Good night, Mr Winchester.”

She pulled the door behind her and Dean tried to get comfortable again, wondering what extenuating circumstances Cas had managed to convince them of to let him stay. As though disturbed by Dean’s movements, Cas gave a snort in his sleep and somehow managed to roll his neck into an even more unnatural position.

“Cas,” Dean whispered, having given little to no thought about what he was about to do, “hey _Cas_.”

“Dean,” Cas woke quickly and wiped his eyes, blearily, reaching for Dean’s hand even though he was mostly still asleep, “what is it?”

“C’mere,” he replied, shifting his weight in the bed to give Cas some room.

“What?”

“C’mon. Get up here, you look like you’re about to break your neck in that thing.”

Still at least two-thirds unconscious, Cas slumped more than he slid into the bed next to Dean which was a bad idea because there wasn’t nearly enough room for both of them. But that didn’t seem to matter as Cas somehow made himself comfortable in such a small space. He wrapped an arm around Dean’s waist, resting his head on his shoulder and whispered, “go to sleep, Dean.”

And even though he’d been jostled into alertness by Cas’ movements, just that gentle command and the warmth of his touch was enough to have Dean drifting off again in no time.

When Dean woke again in the early hours of the morning it was with far less of a start and for no real reason. For a moment he was surprised to find Cas lying in his arms before the events of the night before caught up with him and he remembered inviting the guy into the bed to save his poor limbs, though as Dean tried to stretch his back a little he found it protesting having been forced against the edge of the bed all night. Oh well, it wasn’t that bad. The advantage of having Cas this close was that he could see him, properly see him, without any blurry edges or tinted shades.

Reaching with one hand he managed to snag the cord by the window and with a light tug cracked the blinds a little. It wasn’t enough to let any real light in, not that there was much light to be seen. The world outside was thick with fog and rain and the sun, if it had managed to rise at all, was trapped behind a carpet of grey clouds. It brought some light to the room though and because it was already so subdued Dean didn’t find himself reaching for the glasses to block it out. After a few minutes, he had actually adjusted and he felt more than a little elated when he realised that he really was going to recover.

It was enough to see him settle back down against the pillows with a happy sigh. He _was_ going to be alright. In the dim, overcast light Dean took in every millimetre of Cas’ features. His tousled hair looked as though they’d done far more with each other than just sleep, but then it always looked like that from what Dean had seen. He idly wondered what Cas’ actual sex hair looked like and then realised with a quick jolt of heat through his blood that he would probably find out if things kept going as well as they were. Without intending to he raised his hand to gently card through Cas’ hair just to see what it felt like and marvelled that it seemed so soft under his touch. His fingers traced down from his hair to his jawline sporting impressively dark stubble given that he’d shaved so meticulously the day before. The thought made Dean instinctively itch at what was quickly becoming another beard given that he’d been out of it for a week. Maybe Cas would be willing to shave him again? Maybe they’d make out like it was going out of fashion again…

Cas shifted in his sleep, nuzzling his face deeper into the crook of Dean’s neck, his arm coming to rest on Dean’s chest and even from that awkward angle Dean could feel the muscle there. He’d only ever seen Cas as a blurry, slight figure and hadn’t been prepared for just how strong the guy obviously was. If he didn’t get out of this hospital soon he was pretty sure it was gonna kill him.

Cas let out a small sigh in his sleep and after a moment of shifting around, trying to get comfortable, his eyes fluttered open and he smiled up at Dean.

“Good morning,” he said, but Dean wasn’t capable of response at that particular moment. His body felt heavy, as though it had suddenly been overcome by a great weight. His heart was racing so fast he was surely a minute away from a heart attack and his breath had caught in his throat as he forgot how to breathe and might never manage it again.

Suddenly everything made sense.

Why Cas had been allowed to stay with him when nobody else would have been permitted. Why the two of them had gotten so close so quickly as though they were meant to be. Why Bobby had referred to him as part of the family. Why Cas had gotten speechless in the face of greenery. Why Dean had felt like he had forgotten something important ever since he had woken up in this place.

Castiel’s eyes were blue.

Specifically, the shade of blue Dean had never been able to see before. They were the colour of sea spray as it crashed over rocks. The clear sky on the warmest of summer’s days. The gem in his mother’s ring that he’d never been able to appreciate but knew must have sparkled.

When Dean found his voice it was forgivable that it broke a little and he only managed to croak, “Cas...”

Cas was smiling patiently at him, beaming but Dean was preoccupied with the bright eyes looking up at him. Cerulean, someone had said once when they’d looked at a chart of colours just to see how far their colour blindness went. Azure. Topaz. Aqua. Cornflower.

 _Cas_.

His hand came to rest on Dean’s jawline, though he could barely feel it through the week of growth. He really needed that shave.

“Hello, Dean.”

 

* * *

 

 

_AD._

_As a matter of course, every year I am asked if I have found my soul-mate and until now the answer has always been no. I have always maintained a rather cynical view of soul-mates, possibly because nobody in my family has ever found them and yet have still succeeded in having passionate, loving and long lasting relationships. I am usually reticent to discuss personal matters however, in this instance my story has many points pertinent to the discussion topics and it will no doubt save me answering questions later._

_In June of this year, there was a fire in my apartment block and a malfunction in the fire alarm meant we were not notified until the fire had largely consumed the stairwell leaving us with few means of escape. It was not the fire alarm that first alerted us, but a man, who saw the smoke and threw himself into the task of getting everyone out before the fire prevented such an escape. He suffered numerous burns and several other injuries in the process and was already struggling with smoke inhalation before he got to the last apartment; mine. At first, he was shielding his face with the leather of his jacket, but when he reached for me it fell and our eyes locked. I have never been able to see any shade of green so the change was immediately obvious to me and from the way he reacted, it must have been to him. I remember laughing, even as the smoke filled the room. Thankfully, one of us had our wits about us and even as we stared at each other he grabbed me and pushed me out the door. As we neared the exit, the building’s structure was compromised and a large section of flooring collapsed above us. He pushed me through the door but in doing so was not able to escape himself and he disappeared under the debris._

_The fire service was already on the scene and he was recovered swiftly and loaded onto an ambulance. As his soulmate, I was allowed to accompany him though I was not allowed near him while the paramedics did their work. His injuries were severe and I do not think there are words in any of the languages I have studied that could adequately convey the fear and horror I felt watching my soulmate requiring such treatment before I had even learned his name. At the hospital, he was taken away to surgery though we later discovered that his life was in no danger and despite the injuries he had sustained the most damage had been done to his eyes and he would not be able to see for some time._

_He was unconscious for four days, easily the worst four days of my life and later it occurred to me that I was far less worried for the loss of my home than I was for my soulmate. I had at least by now learned his name. When he woke up we soon realised that he had little memory of the fire and no memory at all of myself. Though I was upset I resolved to tell him as soon as possible, but his brother advised that I wait until he had at least recovered from the shock of what had happened._

_However, after waiting, the time never quite felt right. Instead, it became an open secret though he never quite caught on. But even though he did not know precisely who I was the two of us were inexorably drawn to each other and he asked me out on a date before he had seen me or discovered what everyone but him seemed to know. Things progressed quickly despite his temporary blindness. I’d like to say that even if we were not soulmates we would have still gone on that date, but such a statement is redundant._

_Every morning I would aim to arrive before visiting hours started, usually bearing breakfast for him and I was more often than not the last to leave. In the interim I found myself thinking of him constantly, sleeping was a struggle and my brother referred to me several times as a ‘lovesick puppy.'_

_During his recovery, he succumbed to a serious infection and I found I could not leave him, not when he was in such a state. By the time he recovered from that bout of illness, the bandages around his eyes had been removed and he had started to regain some semblance of sight. It became clear that he would soon realise that he could see his soul colour and make the connection and so I made a plan to reveal it to him myself. Incidentally, my plan to take him out at sunset to the hospital gardens to show him the approaching night sky never came to pass as he discovered the colour himself, looking into my eyes._

_Of course, our relationship, like any, has had difficulties. Ironically, the period of time immediately after his discharge from hospital was harder than when he had been a patient, but we have come through it and at time of writing, which is just a few months from when we first met, he is sitting just across from me watching me type this though he thinks I’m so caught up in my work that I do not see him._

_I always see him._

_It would be pointless and embarrassing to enthuse about his great many good qualities and insist how well we complement each other, so I shall refrain from doing so. Instead, I shall say only this. Since I met Dean Winchester I appreciate the feelings of euphoria that people experience upon discovering their soul colour and understand entirely why such feelings can be attributed to the person that caused the revelation. As much as I am loathe to admit it, everything about this discovery from the moment our eyes met to the way he sits opposite me now, staring at me as though I made of the stars themselves, is just like it is in the movies._

 


End file.
